


The Look of Love is in Your Eyes

by Always_Dreaming



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Awkward Romance, M/M, Matchmaking, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Always_Dreaming
Summary: Does Vale still like Marc, or not? Probably the first and last time I'll write about Marc/ Vale, but it is based on these photos and the way Vale is looking at Marc! ❤❤https://www.emiliaromagnasport.com/news/motogp-gp-misano-gelo-tra-valentino-rossi-e-marc-marquezhttps://www.motorsport.com/motogp/news/rossi-refuses-marquez-handshake-gesture/3172221/To me, it looks like Vale is smiling lovingly at Marc there…What do you think? btw if anyone can tell me how to make those links clickable, please do!!





	The Look of Love is in Your Eyes

Marc slumped on the sofa in his trailer at the Aragon circuit, gazing at his phone. He’d kept old texts Vale had sent him years ago, even though he’d been tempted to delete them in a fit of rage in 2015. But he hadn’t been able to…

Reading them again, he felt flat and even empty. No matter how he smiled and said it was okay, it was NOT okay that Vale had refused his handshake. He’d been so happy when Vale had said everything was alright between them, so why had he refused his hand? Marc had brooded and wondered about it since it happened at Misano.

Jorge had told him to move on and forget about Vale, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He had to find some way of accepting the situation…but how? Jorge had said Vale was like a small child, maybe one day he’d grow up. Or Marc would grow up and move past him. It was all so complicated.

Someone knocked on his door and he called, “come in,” quite feebly. 

_Pull yourself together, Marquez!_ he told himself firmly. “Come in!” he called in a more manly way.

A familiar head peeped round the door. “Hello!”

“Tito!” shouted Marc, bounding across the room and flinging himself into his best friend’s arms. “What are you doing here? I though you weren’t coming back til Thailand?”

“I’m not, I’m just visiting. Guest of honour at Avintia. They can’t do enough for me, they treat me like a hero.” He smiled into Marc’s face and the shorter rider felt a warm glow of happiness.

They shuffled to the sofa and sat down, untangling from each other.

“Would you like a drink? Beer, coffee, water?” Marc jumped up, beaming.

“Oh, why not beer?” said Tito, also beaming.

Marc hurried to get the drink. “Did you see Morbidelli?” he shouted over his shoulder as he fetched a glass from the cupboard.

“Oh yes, he was all over me.” The tall blond giggled. “He can’t do enough for me either, we went out for lunch at the restaurant here and he paid.”

“Ooh!” Marc giggled too. “I hope he was the perfect gentleman on your date and didn’t take advantage of you.” He brought the beer to his friend and set it on the low table. “These Italians can be charming…”

Tito subdued him with a glare, then cleared his throat. “But I came here to talk about another Italian.”

“Oh yes?” Marc ran through Italian riders he knew—Dovi, Iannone, Petrucci…and _him._ Which could Tito mean?

His friend silently brought out his phone and showed him a website. Marc frowned—it was the one with the title FROST BETWEEN VALENTINO ROSSI AND MARC MARQUEZ. His eyes widened—he hadn’t seen the photos of the press conference. At least not from that angle, why would he? He had his own perspective. But why was Tito throwing it in his face? A hot rush of anger flooded up his body.

“Why are you showing me this? I know what happened, I was THERE!” He was about to throw the phone across the room but Tito grabbed it.

“Use your eyes! Look at the way he’s gazing at you!”

Marc reluctantly peered at the screen and saw the fond smile on Valentino’s face. “He’s mocking me,” he mumbled sadly. “What are you trying to say?” He glanced up at Tito.

“I’m saying, he isn’t mocking you. He looks as if—as if he likes you there. Or more than likes you.”

The two riders stared at each other. 

“As you know, I don’t approve of you and him,” gabbled Tito nervously. “But you are unhappy and I hate to see you that way. I want to see you happy, whatever it takes, so I wanted you to see this. And there is another one.” He typed on his phone and found a page called ROSSI REFUSES MARQUEZ HANDSHAKE GESTURE.

Marc peered at the tiny screen, and yet again, Vale seemed to be gazing fondly at him. He stared silently at his best friend.

“I’m saying that maybe he wants to talk to you again. I’m saying that it’s Uccio’s meddling that caused him to refuse your hand. Like you said, Uccio is always in the middle. Of everything. If you can avoid Uccio, you’ll be okay.”

“But how the hell would I do that? Vale and Uccio are inseparable, they might as well be one person.” Marc kicked the table leg, making the beer glasses wobble.

“Me and Franky were talking. He’s not stupid, he can see there are still feelings between you two. Franky said he would question Vale when Uccio isn’t there, to see if he still wants to talk to you.”

“Franky’s brave then! Vale is his teacher and boss. Everyone thought, when you had your accident, he was ignoring you because you’re my friend, out of some sort of loyalty to Vale—”

“Marc!” Tito grasped his hand. “Focus! Me and Franky are on your side, I want you to be happy and he wants Vale to be happy. Let us help you.”

The duo nearly jumped out of their skin when Marc’s phone rang. The younger man stared at it in disbelief, because the name said _Jerk_ , which he’d renamed Vale after 2015.

Tito raised an eyebrow. “Jerk?”

“It’s him.” Marc clutched his friend’s arm so hard that his nails dug into the skin.

“Answer it then.”

“I can’t, I just—”

The phone stopped ringing and the two riders stared at each other.

“Ring him back.” Tito shook his arm. "Go on! Seize the moment! You’re good at that. He obviously does want to talk to you.”

Marc rode on the wave of confidence and pressed Call Back. The phone rang and rang, and he was just about to hang up, when a familiar voice answered.

“Ciao, Marc. H—how are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics that were in my head for this story, they fit perfectly:
> 
> The look of love is in your eyes  
> a look your smile can't disguise  
> the look of love  
> is saying so much more than these words could ever say  
> and what my heart has heard, well it takes my breath away
> 
> (Yes I did change the title slightly, due to the song) _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eG6Y1cR-OU_


End file.
